Apologies that are so sincere they sting.

My next self aware thought is something along the lines of 'I lost again' rather than the typical 'where am I' or 'what happened' that most people losing consciousness would experience. Perhaps some in my situation may also think something more along the lines of 'it hurts' or 'I can't move' and begin to panic.

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on your perspective. I am far too used to the pain, perspective changes and lack of function in my body to question my situation. My mind is still hazy and yet I know exactly what happened. Even without remembering most of it.

The memories however soon return and elicit a groan despite the pain and lack of movement in my limbs not bringing even a peep from me. This is of course not a manifestation of pride, spite or perhaps a natural resilience. No the reason only regaining the memories gets a groan from me is because this is a groan of defeat. I am far too experienced to let any other groan escape my mouth.

Those groans are signs of weakness. Signs of inexperience. I am neither of those things. Or so I would have most believe when in truth I simply did it to spite the man once and never got out of the habit. Habits are far harder to break than you think.

Regardless my groan of defeat is perhaps a habit of it's own. One you will hear fairly often in this house. Whenever I go through this 'training' it is always followed rather swiftly by a groan of defeat. Something I would ideally like to change but that will likely stay the same for as long as that man lives.

Thinking about the simplest solution to that problem however is enough to excite me and get me through these torturous days. I will simply have to kill that man. Throat, ulna, kneecaps and finally castration. I have it all planned out. That plan is enough to give me the motivation to stand so I get to it before I lose it.

My aches and pains are somewhat ignored as I rise up like a zombie once more and drag myself towards my room door. I find someone waiting for me there with a worried, anguished and perhaps a little angry expression on her face.

It's obviously mother dearest with her emerald eyes looking far less pure and sparkling than usual and her pitch black wings reflecting her mood far more aptly as they slump down behind her. Without a word she offers me her shoulder and I use her like a crutch to make make it into my room.

She opens the door for me without a word and helps me towards my bed before lifting me into her arms like a princess. She does so gently, so that despite all my wounds the only thing I can feel from her embrace is her motherly love. Looking into her eyes is the only place I can look and the only thing I see is pity and perhaps sadness.

No regret, no determination, no new resolve essentially there's nothing I want to see. So I close my eyes and ignore her faux compassion as she places me in my bed. I feel the pod gently wrapping me in it's embrace and the light that was leaking through my eyelids making my whole vision red fades.

Now only darkness permeates my visual barriers as I lay in bed and think about the day's events. Ignoring the usual ending to days with that man it was fairly successful I think. Sure I only managed to get the laser to light up harmlessly but at least I know that it can be fixed and that's good enough for me.

Now all I need to do is finish it. With that thought I slip into dreams of what I will do tomorrow and how I can improve on today. In particular I try to focus my dreams on the fight earlier. I dream about it replaying, over and over and over.

How could I have done better? Could I have finished him with that headlock? Could I have brought a knife into the fight and ended him that way? Could I have managed to land that punch? Could I have avoided him enough to recover from my dizziness?

These questions whirl around in my mind and I hold onto them as I fall into slumber. Slowly my thought process increases in speed. So while the depictions in my head are getting less and less detailed there are more of them. Hundreds, thousands perhaps millions. I run through the fight in as many ways as I can in my dreams.

Yet no matter which angle I play the scene out in my mind. Though I would sometimes fantasise the opposite. I just can't see myself beating that man. He's far out of my league. Bringing a knife would flare his PS. Recovering would take so long that I may as well have destroyed him if I could do that. If I landed that punch he would just shrug it off and continue.

No matter which dream it is. It always becomes a nightmare. The same nightmare. In stead of a strategising session in my head. It just becomes a second torture session. Because of that fact, my sleep is far from pleasant and when I wake up in the morning I'm far from pleased with myself.

I open my eyes to my blurry surroundings and press the button on the side of my pod. When I do light comes into my frame of view and it blinds me for a moment. After that moment however I adjust to the light and slowly pull myself out of bed.

I once again sluggishly drone through my usual morning routine. Go to the bathroom, freshen up and get out of my pyjamas etc… etc… Once done with all that I head towards the base room and subsequently the kitchen still aching from my bruises the day before.

I grab another random breakfast from what I've taken to calling the food machine and head to the base room table. Unfortunately the person waiting for me is none other than the cause of my current discomfort.

So I ignore that annoying distraction and simply sit at the table. Once I'm done with that I just start eating my food. The food by the way is some sort of wheat based cereal in the shape of fish. No meat in it this time though. Despite being mainly carnivores we are still part human and thus we are not incapable of having a vegetarian diet.

Chewing my cereal is the only sound I make and the only one that resounds throughout the eerily silent room as I eat my breakfast. My face is still blank, I display no emotion, partially because I'm tired and groggy from just waking up and partially because I can't force a smile in this man's presence after a training session.

He seems to have an almost constipated look on his face the one time I glanced at him but I simply ignored him after that one glance and continue with my breakfast in silence and utter stagnation. This continues for the whole time I'm eating breakfast thankfully.

So after that I take my pots where they're supposed to go and grab my stick tablet before getting ready to leave the house. As soon as I get to the door however the man finally gathers the audacity to speak and what comes out of his mouth is nothing but hot air.

"I'm sorry dear. I didn't mean to go so hard on you yesterday. I hope you're doing ok. You don't need to go out today. We can take care of you here if you want." He said in what was likely an attempt at a gentle tone. He likely hopes for reconciliation but he appears to forget that we've gone through this song and dance so many times it's practically second nature to me.

So I respond as I should and as I always do. "Don't worry about it. I really don't mind. I do have to go outside though so later" I say in my cheerful little girl voice. I plaster my usual smile on my face and wave back at him with an innocence in my eyes.

My mind however is filled with anything but innocent thoughts. I know for a fact this does more damage to him psychologically than if I was to scream and rage. If I chastised him for hurting his daughter, if I showed any sort of resistance or even just ignored him for a little while at least he would consider that punishment for what he did.

But if I forgive him innocently like a child. Just accept my scolding. Well that would prick at his conscience. His supposedly sacred treasure. His morals. Oh I just love seeing that look on his face. The look like he's swallowed something bitter, like he's beating himself up in his mind.

Sure enough after my little wave I catch a look of pure agony on his face and it sends me into bouts of pure ecstasy. That's right, your innocent little girl doesn't hate you. She never hates you and yet you still did this to her. I don't need to beat you in a fight. I just need you to beat yourself.

I smile a far more genuine smile at the man and taking it's meaning in another direction his expression appears to drop even further than before. Of course I, in correlation to how grim his expression is getting am becoming completely the opposite. Despite the bruises, pain and scars the look on his face almost seems worth it after the fact and I am enjoying this fact immensely.

So with a renewed spring in my step I shut the door behind me and head to my home. A short trip through the grav-tube and a walk through the wastelands later I arrive at my home and open the door. The security has already decreased though it's still harder for me to get around than before.

These guys truly are careless and it's funny to watch honestly. No one would attack a place the day after it was already attacked that's just plain stupid. So you don't relax after no one comes two days in a row. Sure there are some people who think they can get away with stealing from you every day if you don't up security but they could just as easily switch that schedule up to every week or every few days.

You shouldn't lax any sort of new security measures for at least a month and considering the surplus of manpower they appear to have they may as well just have things better protected in the first place.

Regardless of my analysis on their security my first task in my home is to work on the laser again. Yesterday I got pretty close to fixing it I think. It certainly can't be used lethally at the moment but it's at least producing a good amount of light for the right amount of time now.

Even if it is only as useful as a laser pointer right now I know that once I get the light more focused I can turn this into a lethal weapon and one of the final pieces to complete my robot. I can't wait to see my robot in action. It's only for self-defence of course but I'm sure I could find some uses for it.